


You Can Keep Me in the Dark

by Jenngeek



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mindwipe fic, post Infinity Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenngeek/pseuds/Jenngeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his return to Earth following the events in the Infinity Arc, Steve Rogers is having trouble sleeping. Tony suspects he knows why, and guilt leads to an offer that neither of them really saw coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Keep Me in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a rambling idea on Tumblr after listening to the bootleg _If/Then_ cast recording ad nauseam. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this piece (please do, I need people to fall in love with this musical), it's called [ You Don't Need to Love Me](http://youtu.be/3WOSIercmJI) and is performed by the amazing Anthony Rapp. The title is also taken from this song. 
> 
> Brief mention of events from the World's Most Wanted arc, and I completely ignore the current runs of both Iron Man and Captain America because Reasons. And above all other things: I blame Hickman for this.

The first week after the  Avengers' return, Tony and Steve only saw each other in passing. Between the clean up from Thanos’ latest attempt at conquering the Earth and the emergence of the newly transformed Inhumans, there wasn't much time for anything like a welcome party.

But at least, Tony thought, there had been that moment in the Lost City after the fighting had ended. After the horrifying moment in the Necropolis when Tony had been sure that the world had met its end, and after the Mad Attilan prince had somehow managed to save them all. After Tony had abandoned the rest of the Illuminati to finally be with his team again.

He had found Steve lying on the ground, looking bloodied and beaten. For a moment, he had been sure that he had gotten to them too late. When the suit's bio-readings came back stable, though, he let out a sigh as he crouched down next to the other man.

"Wake up, Steve," he had called quietly, leaning over him as he came slowly out of unconsciousness.

When Steve's confused, clouded expression turned to relief as he focused on him, Tony felt his own worry from the last few month begin to ebb away. "Bad dream?"

"That depends," Steve said as he took Tony's hand to help haul him out of the rubble. "What kind of world am I waking up to?"

Tony had let his hand linger in Steve's for a moment, his fingers tingling from the touch despite the armor between them. He felt a grin spread across his face, unseen by anyone behind the faceplate, and resisted the urge to laugh. "Ours."

It was enough to keep Tony going.

The rest of the Avengers were running on fumes, Tony knew. Those that hadn't just returned from leading a multi-world liberation movement had still spent the last few months staving off a full blown invasion. To say they were all running a little raggedly was probably an understatement.

But because they had gotten _bigger,_ because Tony had convinced Steve that he needed an army to fight wars exactly like this one, they were able to manage it. They worked in shifts, playing tag team around the clock with just enough time for everyone to sleep and maybe grab a few meals. But they had the home team advantage this time. They were able to make it work.

There were multiple bull sessions in the Avengers Ready Room, of course. Steve and Tony bowed their heads together over  their reports, bouncing ideas off one another as they made their plans with the rest of the team.

He used these times to drink in the sight Steve, to reassure himself that _they’re all alive, he brought them home, STEVE came home._ It didn’t quite settle the urge to lean into Steve’s space, or the itch in his fingers to reach out and feel the familiar blue mail beneath his palm. But they had to focus on the business at hand, and when they finished Tony and Steve were off again in opposite directions.

Finally, after a late night spent at the Baxter Building conferring with Reed over the _other crisis_ that made everything else that was fucked up in their lives seem minuscule, Tony walks tiredly into one of the rec rooms to find Steve passed out on a couch.

"Probably shouldn’t wake him," Clint says softly, seated at the table on the other side of the room. He’s slumped over a battered laptop and a half empty pot of coffee. "I’d swear that’s the first time I’ve seen him sleep since, like, three planets ago."

"You’re measuring time in planets now?"

"There were a fuck ton of them, Tony," Clint says. "And without convenient little measuring tools like _days_ , time loses all meaning. This is seriously the worst jet lag in the history of screwed up sleep schedules.”

"Didn’t help that you guys came home to find the house trashed," Tony says, a little bitterly. He studies the tired lines under Steve’s eyes, and notes that his neck is at an awkward angle, like he's trying to fit himself onto too small a sofa.

"Eh, we left you in charge," Clint says as slides out of his chair. "We might as well have given you pizza money and bought extra insurance." He mumbles the last bit around a yawn as he stretches, before turning to walk towards the door.

"I've gotta go relieve Carol from the conn. Try not to get invaded while I'm gone." Clint gives Tony a friendly pat on the arm as he walks out of the room, coffee pot in hand.

Tony turns his attention back to Steve. He really does look uncomfortable like that. Even in his sleep he’s frowning. After a moment, Tony gives in to the week’s long urge and rests his hand against Steve’s shoulder.

"Hey, Steve," he calls quietly. "Wake up, old man."

Steve comes awake with a start, eyes unfocused as he stares at the back of the couch. He turns his gaze quickly to the hand on his arm, and then up to Tony. The recognition is instantaneous, and Steve sags back down into the cushions, his body relaxing as he closes his eyes again.

"Bad dream?" Tony asks, because that is apparently their  _thing_ now.

"No more than usual," Steve says, his voice gravel and exhaustion. "Something wrong?"

Tony shakes his head slightly, because really, what isn’t wrong these days? “Only that you’ve been away long enough to forget that you have a bed in your apartment.”

Steve frowns as he opens his eyes to look at Tony. “You’re kicking me back to Brooklyn?”

He asks it in a way that sounds like he thinks Tony might actually want to do that, and Jesus,  _no._

 _“_ I meant your Tower apartment,” Tony says, his fingers flexing on Steve’s shoulder. He lets go, suddenly aware that he had been clutching into the mail. “It’s still fully furnished, king size bed and everything.”

And man, it says a lot about Tony’s own level of exhaustion that he can think about Steve’s bed and all it makes him want to do is _sleep_.

Steve turns his head further into the cushion, making a non-committal noise. He doesn’t make any move to get up.

Tony leans over him slightly. “Steve?”

Steve lets out a small breath, not quite a sigh. “You keep asking me about bad dreams.”

Tony blinks, surprised. “Well, you keep waking up like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

"That’s one way of putting it," Steve mumbles, and this time he actually does let out a raspy sigh. "It’s the same dream, over and over, and I don’t…I have no way to explain it. I have no reason to think that about them. No reason not to trust them."

"Them?" Tony asks, even as cold fear begins to trickle down his spine. His fingers go slightly numb as they dig into his palm.

For a moment it looks like Steve might actually tell him, and Tony, fucking coward that he is, doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to hear Steve confirm that maybe the walls Strange put up are starting to crumble. That the clock is ticking on how long they can keep everyone else in the dark, and that he’s running out of time to get Steve ready for what’s coming. Running out of time before he can no longer stand at Steve’s side.

"I’d rather not," Steve says finally, and it takes everything in Tony not to look relieved.

"That’s fine. That’s…I understand." Tony tries to sound reassuring. "So, you’re having trouble sleeping, except when you’re on a couch?"

"I’m having trouble sleeping all together," Steve admits quietly. "But I can manage it when there are other people around. People I…trust."

"Ah," Tony says as it clicks. "Clint was in the room."

Steve nods. “It wasn’t a big problem while we were out on campaign. I don’t know why, really. But it’s gotten worse since we got back.”

Tony considers the problem. “Do you, I don’t know, do you want to ask someone—”

"No," Steve says quickly. He sits up, running a hand through his hair and over his face, clearly trying to shake off his exhaustion. "No, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it. I don’t want anyone to know."

"You told me," Tony points out.

Steve makes a face. “I don’t want anyone _else_ to know, then. You apparently already put it together. No point in lying about it now.” He smiles slightly. “And if I trust anyone in this tower, Tony, it’s you.”

The words hit Tony like a punch to the gut. Fuck. Fucking _fuck_. Tony has to plant his feet to the goddamn floor to keep from retreating from the room. Or, at the very least, from finding a corner to puke in. Some combination of those two.

"You trust me," Tony says flatly, and he is silently appalled that he can sound so calm.

Steve tilts his head, studying Tony with suddenly clear eyes. For a heart pounding instant, Tony thinks that this is it. This is when Steve will ask the right questions. He’ll put together all the pieces, like _'why was Tony in Wakanda when we got back,'_ or _‘where did those doomsday devices come from anyway.'_ Or, his favorite, _'why does Tony keep disappearing without any explanation?'_

Tony isn’t sure what he’d do if Steve started asking any of these things.

"Thanos wasn’t your fault, Tony," Steve reassures him quietly after a moment. His face is so sincere that it makes Tony kind of, maybe, want to cry. "When we left, I trusted you to keep it together if worse ever came to worst. And you did just that. You kept them at bay until we could get back to you. That’s all that matters. I’m proud of you."

Tony rubs his face and tries not to vomit all over the floor. _Fuck._

"We should go to bed," Tony says, truly exhausted now. "It’s too late, or too early, to deal with this."

"I was sleeping," Steve points out. At least he sounds amused.

"I meant go sleep in an actual bed," Tony says, ready to fall into a wonderful state of oblivion where he can forget for awhile exactly how much of a bastard he is.

"You should," Steve says, standing up and stretching out aching muscles. "But I think we already covered how that’s going to be a problem for me."

The idea hits Tony without any real though behind it. “I’ll sleep with you.”

"Excuse me?" Steve says, turning to him.

Tony has to take a moment to review. And, yep, he really did just offer to sleep with Captain America. Because of course he did.

“You said you trust me,” Tony says, steamrolling right over all of the alarm bells currently going off in his head. “And you don’t want anyone else to know, right? Well, easy solution there, Cap. Let’s bunk up.”

Steve levels a look at him that clearly says he’s unconvinced.

"You don’t have to do that," he says.

"Maybe I do," Tony replies, sounding a little sharp to own ears. "Or maybe I just want to help you. Is that too much to believe?  I mean, this is what we do for each other, Steve. You’re always my first call whenever there’s a problem. You’re the person listed right after Pepper on all my emergency contacts. Hell, I think Pepper has just started forwarding those calls to your voicemail anyway."

"Sounds about right," Steve agrees mildly.

"So let me do this," Tony says, and suddenly he needs Steve to agree to this. This small, simple thing that could make Steve even a little bit better. Because, in his gut, Tony knows that he’s the one that caused it.

Steve shakes his head. “Just because you ask me for my help, Tony, doesn’t mean you ever actually take it. You always try to go it alone first.”

Tony resists the urge to say that the last time he really needed Steve to help him, to be on his side? He had refused point blank. It’s not like Steve remembers that, anyway.

"And where does that usually get me?"  

Steve crossed his arms, familiar and stubborn. “You don’t have—”

"Maybe I just don’t want to be alone," Tony admits, and wow. He really is tired if shit like that is slipping out. He takes a step forward, and Steve uncrosses his arms slowly, looking at him with a mix of uncertainty and…was that interest?  "Maybe we can be alone together for a change."

"Tony," Steve says, his voice rough with something other than fatigue. Tony leans towards him on instinct, like the thousand other times he’s lured someone into his bed. Except it was never with this much want, or this much self-loathing. And wasn’t that an impressive feat.

"You need to sleep, soldier," Tony says into the air between them. "That’s all I’m asking for, here."

Steve stands tensely in front, and Tony is so close he can feel Steve’s breath ghosting against his skin. “That’s all you’re asking for?” Steve asks quietly.

"That’s the only thing on the table from what I can see," Tony answers, his heart beating fast despite the reassurance.

"And if there was something else?"

Tony should tell him flatly that there is nothing else. Because there are black clouds on the horizon that only Tony can see, and he can’t start this now knowing how truly and magnificently it is going to eventually blow up. He’s going to lose Steve, that’s not really in question here. Be it tomorrow or a thousand days from now, eventually Steve is going to learn the truth. And even if he doesn’t kill Tony out right, he’ll certainly never forgive him.

And…that is what it is. Tony can survive losing Steve as a friend, because he did what he had to do to keep them all safe. To keep Steve safe. He can survive knowing that he succeeded in that.

But he won’t survive losing this.

"If you think there’s anything else," Tony says thickly, sucking in a shaky breath, "then you really need to re-evaluate how much you trust me."

He isn’t prepared at all for Steve to lean forward and murmur, “More than anyone,” before pressing his lips against Tony’s.

The urge that’s been nagging at Tony for weeks, or god, more like years when he’s honest, suddenly flames in his chest. Because it’s Steve moving against him, Steve cupping his jaw to hold him still, Steve teasing along the seam of his lips with his tongue. It’s Steve in front of him, Steve’s warm body moving under his grazing hands, and Steve’s arm wrapping around his waist.

It’s everything he wants, has always wanted, and everything he can’t have. But god, it’s so much better than he could have ever imagined, and he is so simply beyond fucked that he can’t help the quiet whimper that escapes as he lets himself melt into kiss.

Steve hums happily into Tony’s mouth, pulling him closer as he leans back on the arm of the couch. It changes the angle of the kiss, and suddenly Tony finds himself situated between two well-toned legs as he pushes Steve’s lips wider with his own. The hand that had been on Tony’s jaw trails slowly down his neck, coming to rest against the RT nod in his chest. It’s so close to his heart that Tony’s sure Steve can feel it beating wildly.

"Just sleep, huh," Steve asks when he pulls away, sounded winded in a way that he never is after a spar or a fight. Tony can feel Steve’s hand at the small of his back, not bringing him closer, but not letting him move away either.

"If that’s what you want," Tony says, his nose bumping against Steve’s.

"That’s not how this works," Steve says, the hand covering the RT moving up to lay against the back of Tony’s neck. He shivers all the way down to his toes.

"It is tonight," Tony says, before leaning in to press a wet kiss just behind Steve’s ear. "Whatever you want," he rasps into Steve’s skin, and he feels the fingers on his neck tighten sharply. "Just let me do this for you. Please."

"This is probably a really bad idea," Steve says into Tony’s hair, even as he pulls him flush with his chest. "What if tomorrow we decide this was a horrible mistake?"

"We’ll probably be right," Tony half laughs, because by ‘probably’ he actually means ‘will.’ This is already a mistake. Tony can’t really bring himself to care. "I’m not looking for promises here, Steve."

"Just sleep." Steve repeats it like it’s a punch-line.

"Whatever," Tony says, trailing sucking kisses down Steve’s throat, "You. Want."

"That’s healthy."

Tony pulls back, fixing Steve with a mock stern look. “Hello, my name is Tony Stark. I have numerous, well document issues that I had assumed you were familiar with. Or have you not been paying attention?”

"Such a bad idea," Steve mutters more to himself then anything, before surging forward into another kiss. Tony agrees with him whole-heartedly.

They somehow, miraculously, make it up to Steve’s room without running into another soul. Considering that they have been collecting Avengers like cobwebs for the last few months, Tony isn’t sure how they manage it. A tiny, infinitesimally small part of his brain wishes that they had bumped into someone, just so he could have an excuse to walk away from this.

 But then again, Tony was pretty good at shutting that particular pest up. It was the voice of reason, and history showed exactly how deaf and dumb Tony could be to it.

When they finally get behind Steve’s locked door, Tony is ready for a few minutes of awkward fumbling. Instead, Steve slips back into his space as naturally as breathing, walking him the short distance backwards until Tony’s back hits the wall.

"Not a bed," Tony mumbles against Steve’s mouth, pulling at the snaps of the uniform hidden along one of the seams at Steve’s waist. The great thing about being the one to repair the super soldier’s suit was knowing exactly how to _get it off._

"Noticed that, thank you," Steve mumbles back, his own hands making short work of the buttons on Tony’s shirt. When he finishes he pushes the fabric down just enough to give himself access to Tony’s collar bone, planting a biting kiss at the base of Tony’s neck.

Tony’s fingers stutter to a halt as he takes in a sharp breath, his hips rocking forward almost involuntarily. Steve’s hips meet his own, pushing Tony further back into the wall. He groans, digging his hands into the Kevlar panels along Steve’s waist.

"Off," Tony manages to gasp eventually, pushing Steve back. He goes somewhat reluctantly, his mouth making a obscene popping sound before taking a step away.

"Problem?" Steve asks, and Tony is only momentarily derailed by the sight of his wet, swollen lips. If this was going to be a one off thing, then that was going to be an image that he’d hold onto forever.

"Yes," Tony says, slipping out of the dress shirt before fumbling at his own belt. "That fucking uniform is a problem. You should rectify that."

"You don’t like the uniform?" Steve asks, even as he shucks the outer layer of scale-mail and body armor with practiced ease.

"Of course I like the uniform," Tony answers, stepping out of his trousers. "I love the uniform. I have had a lot of really inappropriate thoughts involving that uniform." He pulls his undershirt up over his head and tosses it to the side without a second glance. He reaches out and grabs at Steve’s belt, considering it, before dropping down onto his knees. "The uniform, however, takes too damn long to get out of," he says, before mouthing at the bulging leather.

"Design flaw," Steve says, a little breathless, and Tony is absurdly proud that this is the second time tonight he’s been brought to that. "Maybe you should have someone look into that." Steve cards his fingers through Tony’s hair, clearly trying not to push him.

"I think I know a guy," Tony mutters, and even now he makes a mental note to push through his latest upgrades to Steve’s suit. While there’s still time.

Tony loosens the belt in front of him, fingers surprisingly steady considering just how long he has fantasized about doing just this. There’s a thrumming need running through him, screaming at him to take what he can while he can. But it’s not about him. It can’t be about. If this is going to be anything, _mean fucking anything_ , it has to be for Steve. Otherwise, it’s just greed.

He pops the button loose on the leather, and idly considers the idea of lowering the zipper with his teeth. He thinks better of it. The last thing he wants at this point is to get his beard stuck in Steve’s fly.

"Tony," Steve groans above him, just as Tony leans forward to kiss the hard length of Steve’s cock through the cotton briefs. "Tony…"

"If you say anything close to, ‘you don’t have to do this,’" Tony says conversationally as he slips the waistband of the briefs down, "I will go get a gauntlet from the lab and blow the tires out on your motorcycle."

"I am, uh, really not interested in you blowing up my bike."

Tony licks his palm before taking Steve’s cock, slowly but firmly moving his hand as he watches Steve’s face go slack. “Are you interested in me blowing something else, then?”

The strangled noise Steve makes is all the invitation Tony needs. He wraps his lips around the head, using his tongue to massage the underside before moving slowly up the slit and around. He does this a few times before sinking down the length as far he can comfortably go. It’s been a while since Tony’s done this, but hey, riding a bike and all that. Eventually he finds a rhythm that seems to work for Steve. It’s definitely working for Tony, who groans around Steve’s cock as he presses the heel of his hand against his own

Steve’s hands alternate between combing through Tony’s hair, twisting it lightly at certain points, and settling at the base of his skull. He can feel Steve’s fingers map out the knotted scars there, an ever present reminder of the horrible years Tony will never remember. It’s sad that he’s come to wish for that do-over card again, although he’s pretty sure it would be pointless this time. No one will be willing to forgive him twice.

But then again, if he had the option, it would mean he would forget this. Forget the feel of Steve trying so hard to hold himself back from fucking into Tony’s mouth, the taste of his leaking head on Tony’s tongue. If he had the choice to forget all of this, would he take it?

Or rather…if he could make Steve forget this…

And suddenly, Tony can’t breathe. He chokes on Steve, pulling off and away as he coughs, trying to pull air into his lungs.

"Tony?" Steve’s voice is nothing but concern as he drops to his own knees. He puts a hand on Tony’s back, rubbing soothing circles. "Easy, easy."

After a few deep breaths, Tony turns back to him. “Well that’s embarrassing,” he says, going for humor but not quite sure if he makes it. “Tell me it was okay before my Deep Throat blooper moment.”

"It was fine," Steve says, smiling as he frames Tony’s face with his hands. "Better than fine. Really a lot better than fine," he babbles, before pulling Tony towards him for a searing kiss.

Tony lets himself go without any resistance, wrapping his arms possessively around Steve’s shoulders and all but crawling into the man’s lap.

Wherever that stray thought had come from, he was stamping it out of existence right fucking now. Hard. No matter what happens in the future, that was never going to be an option again.

Steve leans back until he’s lying on the floor with Tony sprawled half on top him. He doesn’t seem to mind it, his hands skimming along Tony’s back as they continue to kiss. Tony’s own hand brushes down Steve’s stomach, reveling in the ripple of muscles under warm skin before once again settling on Steve’s cock.

"You know," Steve says, arching up into the touch. "I’ve been reliable informed that this room has a bed."

"What a great idea," Tony agrees, dipping his tongue into the hollow of Steve’s throat simply because it’s there and he can. "Glad you thought of it."

Steve laughs and, before Tony can even really process what is happening, lifts him off of the floor _bridal style_.

"You are fucking kidding me," Tony says, pointedly not wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. "Really? I say ‘whatever you want,’ and you make a mockery of it in this way?"

"As if this is the first time," Steve reminds him with a grin, before letting Tony drop unceremoniously onto the mattress.

Tony does not yelp. That would be entirely undignified.

Steve quickly toes out of his boots, skimming off the briefs and leather pants all in one go. Tony watches him as he makes quick work of it, propped up on one elbow and stroking himself slowly. “Like I said, it takes too damn long to get out of that uniform.”

"I was distracted," Steve says as crawls onto the bed, kissing his way up Tony’s chest as he goes. He pauses briefly at the RT node, pressing a firm kiss to it that makes Tony’s heart stutter so violently he half-seriously wonders if he might have another heart attack.

Finally, Steve settles down between Tony’s legs, rocking into him in a way the causes both of them to gasp. Tony lifts his knees, drawing Steve down closer into him. Steve breathes deeply into Tony’s neck, before pushing both of Tony’s arms up above his head and trapping them there with a single hand around the wrists.

"Holy fuck," Tony mutters, head thumping back against the mattress. He lets Steve set the rhythm, meeting each thrust with his own. It’s amazing, Steve’s sweat slicked skin sliding against his own, the force of them moving together making the headboard crash against the wall.

"Steve," Tony presses his face into Steve’s shoulder, grazing his teeth against the skin. The enthusiastic groan that earns him causes Tony to sink a little deeper into the straining muscle. "Steve, the whole tower is going to hear."

"Could not possibly care," Steve grunts. "Not going to be that much longer, anyway."

Tony moans, tugging uselessly at his trapped wrists. “You have to touch me,” he all but begs, twisting his hips. “Please, Steve, I can’t…”

"It’s okay, I’ve got you," Steve answers, getting a hand down between them and encircling them both in his long fingers.

Tony buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, groaning unashamedly as Steve strokes them both. Nothing could have prepared Tony for the feeling of being pinned down under this man, every single one of his senses overloaded with him. It's absolutely too much for his tired mind to take, and within moments he is coming, long stripes of cum coating both of their stomachs and Steve’s fingers.

 He shakes a little as Steve eases him through it, collapsing back against the bed with a huff. Steve lets his wrists go, and Tony pulls him down into a sloppy kiss.

Steve is breathing hard, and Tony wipes his hand across Steve’s cum-wet stomach before wrapping it around Steve’s cock, moving fast and rough.

"Come on Steve," Tony murmurs against Steve’s lips, "Come on, gorgeous. I want to see you just like this. Yeah Handsome, I’ve got you."

It doesn’t take long before Steve’s hips jerk once, twice, and he’s spilling out all over Tony, their cum mixing together on his torso and chest. Steve takes in a ragged breath each time Tony pulls him through it, until he finally collapses on top of him.

They lay like that for a while, Steve curled on top of Tony in a way that suggested he, very shortly, would be dead to the world. Tony’s not all that inclined to move either, but tonight is about taking care of Steve, after all.

"Hey," Tony says, sliding a hand down Steve’s arm. "Captain Handsome, I need to get up, and while I’m usually a fan of  the whole 190 pounds of all American Grade-A thing you’re rocking, you’re kind of dead weight here."

Steve slowly lifts his head, looking down at him with absolute contentment. “Captain Handsome? Really, Tony?”

"It’s a great nickname."

"It’s a terrible nickname," Steve answers, but rolls off of Tony all the same.

"No it’s not," Tony says, getting to his feet. "In fact, that’s your user name now. Next update to the system, you’re Captain Handsome forever more. Use it or you’ll be locked out, so I’d suggest early adaptation my friend."

 ”Sure Tony,” Steve mumbles as he reaches up for a pillow.

Tony disappears into the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth off of one of the shelves. As he soaks it, he can’t help but look around and notice that everything in here, from the toothpaste to the shampoo, is travel size. Like Steve isn’t planning on settling back in the Tower any time soon.

Tony thinks that maybe it’s better this way. After all, it’s all temporary.

The happiness of the last few moments seeps out of him, and once again Tony is deeply exhausted. How could he forget that none of this is going to last? How could he be that _stupid_?

He catches sight of himself in the mirror at that moment, and freezes. He can see the mark Steve left on his collar bone, and glancing down at his wrists he can tell there will be some light bruising. The cum in already starting to dry and his stomach, and it’s impossible to tell whose it is. Tony scrubs it off almost viciously, before rinsing the washcloth out with fresh warm water. He leaves the bathroom quickly, not looking at the mirror again.

When he makes it back to the bed, Steve welcomes him with a sleepy smile.

"You ready for the ‘just sleep’ portion of the evening?" Steve asks, taking the washcloth out of Tony’s outstretched hand. Tony doesn’t watch him clean up, instead fishing his briefs out of the pile of clothing he left by the door. He puts them on hurriedly.

"Ha, ha," Tony says, walking back to sit on the edge of the bed next to Steve. "You slay me, Cap."

"I try," Steve smiles up at him, clearly ready to drop off at any moment. "Now lay down and get some rest, Shellhead."

Tony hesitates only for a moment. Then he walks around to the other side and slips under the sheets. He scoots close enough to Steve that, if he were to reach out, he could touch him.Tony settles down, and tries not think about anything.

"Tony?"

Tony opens his eyes to find Steve looking at him, his own gaze half-lidded. He inches forward and places a chaste kiss against Tony’s lips, before settling back down into his own pillow. “Goodnight.”

"Night, Steve," Tony replies, heart caught in his throat.

He lies awake for a long time after that, listening to the reassuring sound of Steve sleeping peacefully beside him. Tony fights to stay alert, to not miss any moment of this while he has it. Because, to paraphrase Reed: everything ends. Even this.

"You know, I don’t need you to love me," Tony whispers, his voice barely audible to his own ears. "It’s actually better if you don’t. It’ll be easier when you have to walk away."

Steve sleeps on, unaware, and soon enough Tony joins him in the quiet darkness.


End file.
